


Call Me Baby

by demotu



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, Docking, Feminization, First Time, M/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demotu/pseuds/demotu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's text says: <em>sometimes all I can think about is rubbing my dick all over your tits</em>. It's not meant for Jonny, but maybe he wishes it were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a phone sex/sexting prompt, but is really 20% that and 80% feminisation kink. Not forced fem, only accidental discovery of the kink. Thanks to thecoggs for leading me down this delightfully dirty road and giving it a quick beta read!
> 
> Late added note: This is both complete and incomplete, FYI. I wrote part 1 as a standalone, eventually wrote part 2 as something of a timestamp, with the vague idea that a part 3 would follow, but then I left the fandom and so it will remain forever unresolved.

_sometimes all I can think about is rubbing my dick all over your tits_

Jonny blinks up at his phone, heat flooding through his cheeks. Of all the dumb texts he’s gotten from Patrick in his life, this one’s gotta be the dumbest. He rubs at his eyes, groggy from his pregame nap, and types back, _wtf pat_.

 _Oh c’mon babe_ , he gets back. _You know I’m always horny after my nap._

Which, okay, Jonny does know that, because they roomed together for five years, but they judiciously never talked about anybody’s boners before.

_I don’t know why I have to know about it._

_They’re your tits I’m thinking about, that’s why_ , Patrick texts back.

Jonny feels himself blush again, his tits—pecs, what the fuck—flushing along with his face.

 _And here I thought my ass was my best feature_ , Jonny texts back, because this is a joke, obviously. He shifts on the bed, dick thick between his thighs. Christ.

_T &A, baby, ur the whole package_

_Didn’t think you were into the package_ , Jonny answers, biting down on his lip.

 _Oh I’m into it all right,_ Patrick texts back. _I’ve got something to put right into your sweet, tight pussy._

Jonny’s mouth drops open, and then he makes a strangled sound at Patrick’s next text, which is definitely, absolutely a picture of his dick. In Patrick’s hand, pink and shiny at the tip and just. There. Filling the whole damn screen of his phone.

Jonny wraps his fingers around his dick through his boxers, pushing his thumb against the damp tip, and then his sleepy, startled brain kicks fully online and he remembers.

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_.

Sharpy wanted to bring back the phone prank, the one he’d gotten Seabs with so good all those years ago. Patrick’d been insufferable after beating everybody out of his fantasy football pool for the third year running, so Sharpy told Jonny he’d set it up at morning skate, something about one of Patrick’s regular hook-ups and pregnancy scare version 2.0.

This was not the plan.

His phone buzzes again.

_Wanna suck on your tight nips while you ride me hard._

A tremour goes through Jonny, his cock twitching in his boxers, pressing up against his hand. How is this hot? It shouldn’t be hot, it should be stupid, reading Patrick’s lame-ass dirty talk. Dirty talk meant for a girl, not for Jonny.

 _You still there?_ Pat sends.

Jonny hits call.

“Sup, babe,” Patrick says, voice scratchy with what Jonny would have assumed was sleep.

“It’s not–it’s me,” Jonny says, straight up. “Jonny.”

“Sorry, I thought–”

“You’ve been texting me,” Jonny interrupts.

“What?” Patrick says, sounding confused. “When?”

“Now,” Jonny says. “Your sexts, I’ve been getting them.”

There’s a pause, then a little shuffle. “Sharpy,” Patrick says with a groan.

“Yeah,” Jonny says. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Well, fuck,” Patrick says with a little laugh. “Now I’ve got a boner and nothing to do with it.”

“Think you’ve got plenty of practice with what to do with it,” Jonny chirps, squeezing a little at his dick. He’s gonna have to, as well, now.

“Yeah, but now I’m picturing rubbing it on your tits instead of Lina’s,” Patrick jokes.

Jonny swallows, too loudly. He can hear the click in his throat, bets Patrick can too.

“Uh,” Patrick says. “I mean. If that’s something you’d be into?”

“What, listening to you talk about my tits and pussy?” Jonny says. He means it to sound dismissive, laughing—instead it’s raw and horny and he squeezes his eyes shut at the wave of humiliation that runs through him.

“Oh god,” he hears Patrick mutter, muffled like he didn’t mean it to carry through the phone. “Uh. Can you. What do you want?”

Jonny swallows, squeezes his dick. “I wanna ride your face,” he blurts out, body tightening all over, balls and abs and jaw. “I want your tongue on my clit, in my cunt, licking me until I’m dripping all over your face.”

“Woah,” Patrick says faintly. “I—“

“Too much?” Jonny interrupts, feeling wild and out of control and desperate for anything but a _yes_.

Patrick’s quiet for a beat, two. “I’d make you come on my mouth, baby girl,” he says softly, just before Jonny moves to hang up. He almost does anyway, at the roaring rush of humiliation that pours through him at Patrick’s words. “Push my fingers inside for you to ride, lick your clit so sweet.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jonny pants, holding himself perfectly still, holding everything in, and in, until his hips jerk instinctively, his cock pulling at the fabric of his boxers. He groans, tugging it out and pulling the foreskin up over the head. “I, I’d…”

“Tell me, sweetheart,” Patrick says, voice low and rough and Jonny finds his own going high and breathless as he answers.

“I’d play with my tits,” he gasps, working his cock in quick flicks of his wrist that have him spiralling to the edge dizzyingly fast. “Squeeze my nipples hard. It’d—I’d be so full of your fingers, your thick fingers inside me.”

“You’d come so good on my mouth, your little clit pulsing under my tongue, your cunt squeezing so good on my fingers,” Patrick growls.

Jonny moans, high and hard, hips snapping up off the bed as his head tips back.

“I’d be shaking with how badly I needed to sink my cock into your little pussy,” Patrick says, panting heavily now, staticky breaths loud through the speaker. “So pink and wet and perfect for me.”

“You could, you can—fuck me, fuck me, yeah, oh,” Jonny chants, phone falling away from his ear as his balls draw up and his cock throbs, shooting come all the way up his chest.

“Yeah, Jonny,” Patrick groans, and he’s coming too on a long low moan. Jonny pulls up his knees and spreads them, working out the last dribbles of come and picturing Patrick trembling between his thighs as he does it.

They’re both quiet for a minute. Jonny thinks about reaching for the tissues to clean himself off, but can’t bring himself to move. He does push the phone back against his ear, listening warily to Patrick’s heavy breathing on the other end.

“So that was…” Patrick starts, then trails off.

“Yeah,” Jonny says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? What? No, don’t be so fucking Canadian,” Patrick says. “It was good, Jesus. Duh. You’re an idiot.”

“Fuck you,” Jonny says weakly.

“I just said I wanted to, didn’t I?” Patrick shoots back.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint,” Jonny drawls, drawing up just enough anger to make it sounds less than completely bitter, “but I don’t actually have a pussy.”

“Uh, yeah,” Patrick says with a snort. “That’s why that was hot.”

Jonny stills. “Yeah?” he says uncertainly.

“Yeah, Jonny,” Patrick says, voice rich with an embarrassing amount of fondness. “I wanna fuck your non-existent pussy, stop being a girl about this.”

Jonny bites down hard on his lip, halfway between crying and cracking up. “I’m the idiot, seriously?”

Patrick groans. “Okay, fine, bad choice of words. But I’m down, if you wanna—after the game?”

“After the game what?” Jonny asks. He’s shaking, has to press the phone tight against his ear to keep it from knocking against his jaw.

“Come over,” Patrick says, low and imploring and Jonny shivers hard. “I’ll suck on your tits for real.”

 

~

 

“So,” Patrick says, watching Jonny warily in the low light of his hallway. “Are we—did you want to…you know.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jonny says, mouth dry. He shrugs out of his coat and reaches up to unwind his scarf. His neck is hot, sweaty underneath the fine wool, pulse beating fast like he’s still mid-shift.

“You are,” Patrick agrees. He’s already shed his suit jacket, looks soft and rumpled with his unbuttoned shirt and bare feet. He’d been shifting his weight from foot to foot since Jonny arrived, but now he centres himself and meets Jonny’s gaze squarely. “I’m just wondering if you’re the kind of girl who wants to be taken out for dinner first.”

Jonny swallows, chin tipping down. It’s too hard to keep looking right back at Patrick, so he focuses instead on the pale triangle of exposed skin below Patrick’s throat. “Bit late for that, don’t you think?”

Patrick stays quiet and still until Jonny looks up again, then smiles. It’s still careful, but he steps in and pulls the scarf from Jonny’s lax grip. His hand lands on Jonny’s hip, and Jonny twitches, then settles as Patrick rubs his thumb in circles over the jut of his hipbone.

Patrick tilts his chin up and brushes his lips along Jonny’s jaw, up to his ear, his breath coming in soft pants that are just this side of too fast. “Let me take you to bed,” he murmurs.

Jonny nods, mute, and lets Patrick lead him to the bedroom. Patrick leaves his hand resting lightly on Jonny’s hip until they’re beside the bed, letting go to lean over and turn on the bedside lamp. Jonny watches as Patrick works open the rest of his buttons and shrugs out of his dress shirt, tossing it aside carelessly and looking down to undo his pants. After he steps out of them, Patrick looks back up and cocks his head to one side.

“Gonna take it off for me, Jonny?” he asks softly. “Or do you want me to undress you?”

Jonny breathes in, a careful inhale. He turns his palms forward, just the barest shift at his sides. “Your show,” he says.

Patrick crowds in, turning Jonny back against the bed with two hands on his hips. He draws his fingers lightly up Jonny’s sides, a quiet rasp of calluses on cotton. His thumbs trail underneath the curves of Jonny’s pecs. Jonny’s breath hitches and then stays in his chest as Patrick slides up his chest to start in on Jonny’s buttons.

Jonny’s not wearing an undershirt, not like Patrick, but Patrick keeps the shirt closed as he works his way down, tugging out the shirttails to get to the last of the buttons. Patrick’s too close to see his face, tipped down, but Jonny can feel his hot breath against the sliver of skin Patrick’s exposed. Jonny’s regularly bare-ass naked in front of Patrick—in front of strangers, journalists, coaches, you name it—too often to have any shred of modesty left, but this has him trembling, fingers itching to reach up and hold his shirt closed across his chest.

Patrick looks back up at Jonny, fingertips playing at the delicate skin just below his navel. “You gonna take it off, Jonny?” he asks, leaning down to press his nose to Jonny’s chest. Patrick presses his mouth in a wide, open circle, just above Jonny’s nipple, and breathes a humid brand through fabric into Jonny’s skin.

Jonny groans, hand coming up to cup at the back of Patrick’s head, fingers winding into his curls. Patrick slides his mouth down, teeth scraping over the nipple. Jonny’s fingers tighten, twisting hard and drawing a soft noise from Patrick’s throat.

“Wanna see your beautiful breasts,” Patrick murmurs.

Jonny shivers as Patrick slides his lips over his nipple. His fingers press into Jonny’s stomach, sliding up and opening up his shirt, exposing Jonny’s flushed chest. Patrick pushes Jonny’s shirt off his shoulders and then brings his hands down to cup Jonny’s pecs like he would a girl’s breasts, like they’re soft, full weights in his palms instead of solid muscle.

“Not even wearing a bra,” Patrick says, cheeks dimpling up. “Showing off your nipples for everyone to see, dirty girl.” He flicks his thumbs over the nipples in question, little buds that tighten under the light touch.

Jonny’s taking shallow breaths, trying to keep from panting under Patrick’s touch. He doesn’t—this should be—it’s nothing, nothing at all, but his head is spinning and his cock is achingly hard. “Pat,” he says, not sure if he’s going to put a stop to this or beg Patrick to keep going. He shuts his eyes, fingers in Patrick’s hair twisting too tight.

“Hey,” Patrick says gently. He pulls forward against Jonny’s grip, sliding in close until his erection bumps up against Jonny’s thigh. He tucks his face into Jonny’s neck, hands coming back down to Jonny’s hips. “You look good like this, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

It’s the press of his cock more than his words that grounds Jonny, lets him use his grip on Patrick’s hair to turn his face upward and catch his mouth with his own. Patrick kisses him carefully, soft lips and the barest hint of tongue flicking out before he pulls back, gaze shadowed with lust.

“You gonna let me get my mouth on your tits, Jonny?” Patrick asks. “Suck on your perky little nipples?”

“Yeah,” Jonny says hoarsely, voice raw like he hasn’t spoken in years. “And you should,” he coughs, clearing the thickness out of his throat, “you should touch me. With your fingers.”

Patrick pulls away and grins. “Touch you where?”

It was so easy to say, on the phone, caught up in the craziness of the moment, but the words stick in Jonny’s throat and he blushes, turning his head. Patrick makes a soft sound, just barely a laugh, and tells Jonny to take off his pants.

Patrick disappears into the bathroom while Jonny does it, shrugging out of his dangling shirt and his pants. He settles back onto Patrick’s bed, propped up against the headboard, and watches Patrick return with a glass of water. Jonny takes it when offered, wetting his throat and then placing it on the bedside table while Patrick settles in next to him, one knee folded underneath so he’s turned into Jonny’s body.

“Hey,” Patrick says, and swipes his fingers up the sensitive inner skin of Jonny’s thigh.

Jonny’s hips jerk. “Unh—hi,” he says.

“Hold still,” Patrick says with a quick grin. He dips his head, fingers pressing into Jonny’s thigh for balance as he swipes the broad, wet flat of his tongue over Jonny’s right nipple.

“Fuck,” Jonny says precisely, hands curling into the bedspread beside him.

Patrick hums, the vibration of his lips buzzing through Jonny’s chest, before settling in to map out Jonny’s chest with his mouth. After that first, electrifying pass of his tongue, he avoids Jonny’s nipples entirely, dipping low to lick along the curve of Jonny’s pecs, nosing up the ticklish skin under his armpit, up to bite at Jonny’s collarbone and then lick an insanely sensitive line over the cap of Jonny’s shoulder.

Jonny twitches, swallowing down on a moan, legs shifting on the bed. Patrick’s hand had been resting over his thigh, an anticipatory stillness that had Jonny’s skin goosepimpling up around it, but at Jonny’s movement Patrick starts moving again. He starts low, fingers grazing the pale scars on Jonny’s knee, and works up in tiny, teasing strokes. The kind of touch Jonny’d use on a girl he was making out with, working up under her skirt in a careful, delicate press.

Patrick keeps mouthing over Jonny’s chest, sucking at the swell of his pecs and licking at his nipples as he draws in closer. “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he reaches the edge of Jonny’s boxer-briefs. “Let me see you.”

Jonny can’t help but imagine he’s actually wearing a skirt as he draws one knee out to the side, a shocking wave of heat that flooding through him. If he shuts his eyes he feels like he is letting Patrick see his panties, darkened with the slick of his arousal, or, or his—if he wasn’t wearing--

“Tell me,” Patrick says, suddenly in much closer, words breathy on Jonny’s ear. He drags his fingertips up over Jonny’s boxers, the sharp line of his nails drawing right up to the crease of Jonny’s thigh. Jonny’s cock pulses, curved up under his boxers. “C’mon, angel,” Patrick croons. “Are you wet for me?”

“Yes,” Jonny lets out on a hiss, head tipping back, eyes still shut.

“Yeah, I can see,” Patrick says. His thumb passes over the head of Jonny’s cock, and Jonny makes a choked-off sound, hips jerking up. “Soaking right through your panties, just from me putting my mouth on your perky little tits.”

“Fuuuuck,” Jonny groans, bringing his hand off the bedspread to grip painfully tightly at Patrick’s knee. “Touch me already, come on.”

“Touch you where?” Patrick says, smug and teasing, the asshole. Jonny’s flustered with arousal and embarrassment but he’s not gonna let Patrick win by being too shy to say—

“Touch my clit,” Jonny orders tightly, reaching out to grab Patrick’s wrist and tug his hand down until it’s pressed over the length of Jonny’s cock, hot and throbbing. “Rub my clit, make me—get me _off_.”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, and for the first time since they landed on the bed he sounds nervous. His hand is lax on Jonny’s cock, trapped beneath Jonny’s own. Jonny opens his eyes and meets Patrick’s again, taking in his wide blue eyes and the high smudges of pink over his cheeks.

“Are you…” Jonny licks at his lips. “If you don’t want—”

“No,” Patrick cuts him off, his fingers twitching, curling into the stretched-taut fabric over Jonny’s dick. “No, I want to.” He smiles again, softly, though, a little sheepish as he adds, “Pretty girl in my bed, squirming so nicely for me, how could I say no?”

Jonny’s jaw tightens and he lets out a slow, forcibly steady breath. “Any girl in your bed, I’ll bet.”

“Ouch,” Patrick says with a laugh. He ducks to bite at Jonny’s jawline and presses down with the heel of his hand, stroking heavy and slow from the tip of Jonny’s cock to the base, fingers dipping low over his balls. He keeps up the steady grind of his hand while he sucks at Jonny’s neck, gentle graze of his lips a bright counterpoint to the heavy pressure along Jonny’s dick. It doesn’t take long before Jonny’s wound up and squirming, hips working up in time with Patrick’s rhythm, that rich anticipatory tension pulling deep through him.

The nearly-chaste rubjob shouldn’t be enough to get Jonny off, but Patrick whispering in his ear turns it into the dirtiest, hottest thing Jonny’s ever felt. “You gonna come on my hand, baby girl?” Patrick says, flicking his tongue over Jonny’s earlobe and pressing down hard under Jonny’s cockhead. “Get so slick I could just slide by cock right into your sweet little cunt, all twitching and swollen and so, so ready for me?”

Jonny makes a high-pitched whine in his throat and does it, comes with Patrick calling him sweetheart and dollface and rubbing his dick like he’s working a girl’s cunt.

When Jonny’s spent and panting, eyes clenched shut again from the rush of his orgasm, Patrick drags his fingers back down low, over Jonny’s softening cock and balls and between his legs. Jonny’s breath hitches as his ass clenches at the glancing pressure, but then Patrick slides his hand all the way back up to the waistband of Jonny’s boxers and tucks his fingers underneath, right into Jonny’s cooling spunk, knuckles sliding through the slick mess.

“Let me see,” Patrick says, and now that Jonny’s come he can hear the tension, the rough arousal in Patrick’s voice. “Let me see how wet I made you.”

Jonny opens his eyes and looks at Patrick, his face turned down, gaze fixed on his fingers where they’re shifting underneath the elastic of Jonny’s boxers. He’s licking at his mouth compulsively, and his cock is jutting through the slit of his underwear, red and thick between his legs.

“Yeah,” Jonny breathes out. He lifts his hips and helps Patrick push his boxers down until they’re tight around the tops of his thighs. His cock is pink from the rubbing of fabric, softening up, the head half-hidden under the wrinkles of foreskin and shiny with come. Patrick’s hand hovers briefly, then he drops it back on top, curving around bare flesh. Jonny bites at his lip at the flare of heat and pain at the contact.

Patrick flicks him a hint of a grin and rubs his thumb up over the head, dipping it under the foreskin. Jonny clenches his jaw—even that delicate touch is intense, so soon after coming—but holds still as Patrick plays his fingers through the pool of come and back inside, dipping in and out in a shallow mimicry of fingering.

“Pretty little cunt,” Patrick breathes out. He’s shifted up on his knees, other hand working his own cock as he teases at Jonny’s. He looks back up at Jonny, gaze hooded and mouth wet from the steady swipe of his tongue. “You’re so little, angel, I dunno if I can fit my cock in there.”

“Try,” Jonny chokes out, hips jerking as Patrick’s fingers tighten sharply.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Patrick says, desperate.

Jonny lifts a hand and fits it around Patrick’s wrist, stilling the stroke of his fingertip over Jonny’s slit. “You got me so wet for you,” he says, tongue pressing against his teeth. “It won’t hurt.”

Patrick makes a strangled sound and moves quickly, settling gracefully over Jonny’s thighs. Jonny lets go of his wrist and picks up his own dick, sliding his thumb through the last of the come on his belly and smearing it over the tip. He slides the hood right over the head and pushes it down, cupped in his broad palm, until it’s an inch away from Patrick’s swollen cockhead, beading precum and stretched red skin.

“Put it in me,” he orders, pulse racing despite the heaviness seeping through his limbs. He feels only half-present, like he’s floating, like he really is spreading his legs for Patrick to slide his thick cock into his aching pussy.

Patrick makes a choked sound and shifts forward, his deft fingers slipping as he tries to press the head of his cock to Jonny’s. Jonny does his best to help, slipping his own fingers into his foreskin and pulling it up over the head of Patrick’s dick. Patrick’s so much thicker than him, bulbous at the tip, that it nearly doesn’t go, but Jonny wraps his hand around and rolls his wrist and then it’s _there_ , Patrick’s inside him.

Patrick swears, thighs trembling as he holds himself up, rubbing at the base of his cock frantically. “Oh shit, baby,” he gasps. “I’m gonna come in you, I’m gonna come in your tight little pussy, so pink and wet and, and—uhn, _yeah._ ”

Oh _god_. Jonny can feel every throb of Patrick’s cock as it swells inside his foreskin and then shoots, hot come filling up the thin stretch of skin, coating Jonny’s soft dick until the slipperiness and the jerk of Patrick’s cock is too much and he pops free, the last few spurts of come coating Jonny’s fingers.

He tries to pinch his foreskin closed. He wants to hold onto the feeling of Patrick’s come inside it for as long as he can, but it’s a fool’s errand, everything wet and soft and slippery, spilling down to make a mess of his junk.

Patrick sags back on his heels, ass pressing heavily against Jonny’s thighs as he sucks in air like he’s dying for it, eyes wide and fixed on Jonny’s cock. “Jesus,” he says softly. “That was—jesus.”

Jonny bites down on his lip. Patrick seems shocked, speechless, and Jonny feels a sharp pang of fear that he’s already regretting this. Jonny’s not a girl, he’s _not_ a girl, and Patrick’s not, Jonny doesn’t think he is—

“God, look at that,” Patrick says, interrupting the rush of Jonny’s panic. He lifts a hand and slides his fingers through Jonny’s pubes, up over his cock. His shoulders shake with a breath of laughter, and when Jonny looks up at his face, his half-smile is full of awe, not shame. “You’re a mess.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Jonny grumbles, blush rising back in his cheeks, even as a shiver wracks through his sticky, sweaty body as he starts to cool off.

“I’m not letting anybody _else_ take credit for wrecking you so good,” Patrick says with a sharp grin.

“Wrecking _me_ ,” Jonny objects, pushing Patrick off him reluctantly. “Like you were chill about that.”

“Hey, if you have a beautiful girl getting off in your bed, why be cool about it?” Patrick says, sliding to the foot of the bed and off it. He stretches his arms up over his head and grins at Jonny, cockiness seeping back.

“Shut up,” Jonny mutters, throat tight as he tugs his boxers back up over the mess. “I’m not a girl.”

Patrick’s quiet while Jonny puts his pants on, gritting his teeth at the cool dampness underneath his boxers. He finds his shirt and starts turning the sleeves rightside out when Patrick puts a hand on his arm. Jonny starts—he hadn’t noticed he was so close.

“Hey,” Patrick says, voice low and uncertain. “I know. If you want, I’ll won’t say—never, okay? Not if you don’t want.”

Jonny swallows, staring down at the tangled shirt in his hands. “And if I do?” he says in a whisper.

Patrick leans in and presses a soft kiss to Jonny’s cheek, delicate and lingering, and says in a low murmur, “Then you can be my sweet, dirty girl anytime.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a prompt for a timestamp to Call Me Baby, and it turned into, uh, more like another chapter. And not the last one? No schedule but it seemed more suited as an update than a sequel, so here we are.

 Jonny keeps his eyes shut when Patrick arrives. He tips his head back against the arm of the couch, toes flexing against the other. Tightens his glutes to feel the zing through his balls. He’s hard, cock straining against the slippery mesh. Loose shorts, bought just for this. They’re oversized, even on Jonny. He had to tighten the drawstrings to keep them from sliding down his hips as he walked from his bedroom to his couch.

“Nice socks,” Patrick says.

Jonny opens his eyes. Patrick’s standing at his feet, taking Jonny in. Patrick looks at Jonny’s crotch, at the bulge of his dick, and then down his legs to the thigh-high hockey socks. New ones, ones that don’t smell of a gym bag, white with red stripes and held up with black utilitarian garters.

“Thanks,” Jonny says. He slides down the couch, his knees coming up. The shorts slide up his thighs, pooling at his hips.

Patrick’s lips quirk up. “Giving me an upskirt view?”

Jonny palms over his thigh, parting his thighs, and runs his fingertips along the sensitive inner skin. Once, twice—Patrick’s watching, lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them. Jonny shivers, and when his fingers hit fabric for the third time, he curls his fingers around it and tugs, pulling the fabric to the side.

Patrick jerks his head up, meeting Jonny’s face. “You’re—“

“So wet,” Jonny says. His mouth is full of spit. He swallows. “Soaking through my panties.”

“God, baby,” Patrick breathes out, cheeks pink. He steps forward, thighs pressing up against the couch, and wraps his hands around Jonny’s ankles. “C’mere.”

Jonny slides down the couch, letting Patrick fold his knees back to his chest. Patrick draws circles around the jut of his anklebones with his thumbs, head tipped down. Jonny pushes his fingers into his crease, sliding against the wetness. When he grazes his entrance, he shivers, legs twitching in Patrick’s hold.

“Fuck, that’s gorgeous,” Patrick says, fingers tightening. “Look at your pink little pussy, soaking wet for me.”

A whine catches in Jonny’s throat. His hole clenches under his fingers, a thick, heady pulse of arousal. “I thought of you when I touched myself,” he says, breathless.

“What did you think of?” Patrick asks.

“I thought of your fingers,” Jonny says, another wave of heat going through him at the punched-out groan from Patrick.

Patrick lets go of Jonny’s ankles and runs his palms along his calves, over the cotton socks, pausing at the garters. He looks up at Jonny’s face, grinning. “Like this?” he says teasingly, stroking the tips of his fingers along the edge of Jonny’s socks. The frustratingly good sensation makes Jonny work his hips, pelvis going tight as he tries to urge Patrick’s hands higher on his legs, get them on his _skin_.

“Keep going,” he gasps, tightening his fingers in the fabric, baring himself greedily.

Patrick complies, sliding his fingers up until they hit skin. Jonny’s so wound up every graze of skin-on-skin has him shivering, ass clenching and balls tightening and cock jerking. Patrick touches him carefully, easing close and closer to his ass. Jonny’s making these embarrassing high-pitched grunts, neck stretched back and eyes shut tight.

“Fuck, darling,” Patrick says reverently. “I can see your cunt twitching, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“So do it already,” Jonny grits out. He can’t get any leverage with his feet in the air. He clenches his abs, rolling his shoulders into the couch. The sinuous motion of his body feels good and shameful all at once; undeniably desperate and slutty and turning him on even more.

Patrick pulls his hands away entirely. Before Jonny has time to protest, they’re sliding up under his shorts, over his hips. Patrick grips tight and hauls him up onto the arm of the couch, folding Jonny over even more, a pull on the muscles of Jonny’s back and hamstrings. Patrick tugs Jonny’s shorts over his hips and slides them up his thighs, stripping them off, then manhandles Jonny until he’s got one leg splayed up along the back of the couch and then other pressed to Patrick’s shoulder.

It’s an uncomfortable position, pulling on Jonny’s lower back, stretching his hamstrings. It makes his face burn hot, bare and spread wide, right under Patrick’s focused stare.

“Oh shit,” Jonny says. “Are you—”

“Yeah,” Patrick says. He turns his head and bites down on Jonny’s calf, his teeth a dull pressure through the thick socks, and takes Jonny’s ass in his hands, squeezing tight. “I’m gonna touch your pussy, baby girl. Fill you up with my fingers, just like you need.”

“So bad, Pat,” Jonny says roughly. Patrick’s jaw tightens on his name, his chin jerking up minutely. Jonny swallows, watching the shifting play of muscles in Patrick’s face, until it settles into determination and Patrick looks back down.

The brush of Patrick’s fingers through the slickness between his thighs makes Jonny gasp. Patrick slides the tips of his fingers over Jonny’s balls, down across his perineum and just to the edge of his opening. He does it again and again, pressing hard on Jonny’s taint until Jonny’s dick is leaking, too, then rubbing oh-so-gently with the pads of his fingers over Jonny’s entrance.

“Come _on_ ,” Jonny whines, pushing down on Patrick’s shoulder with his leg, lifting his hips up off the couch. “Get in me already.”

Patrick slows the rub of his fingers until they’re just resting on Jonny’s wet opening. He lifts his head to meet Jonny’s eyes. “Tell me something first, sweetheart,” he says softly.

“What?”

“Are you a virgin?”

Jonny blushes. “N—no.”

“I mean,” Patrick says, pressing harder, the tip of one finger nudging inside, “have you ever let a guy put anything in your pussy?”

Jonny licks his lips. “I—”

“A cock?” Patrick asks.

Jonny shakes his head, clenching and releasing against Patrick’s touch.

“Fingers?”

Jonny bites down on his lip, gripping tightly to the back of his thighs.

“I’m not going to stop if you say no,” Patrick reassures, thumbing carefully at Jonny’s slick taint, slow heavy circles like he’s working over Jonny’s clit. “I just wanna know, so I can be gentle.”

“What if I don’t want you to be gentle?” Jonny says. Patrick’s finger slides in deeper, and Jonny squirms.

“Sorry, dollface,” Patrick says with a grin. “Gonna treat you right. At least,” he adds, pulling back out and fucking back in gently, just the tip, just enough to make Jonny want _more_ , “until I know what you can take.”

“Fuck _you_ ,” Jonny whines.

Patrick’s so gentle with him it _hurts_. He fucks Jonny shallowly, softly, easing in one finger and working in deeper millimetre by millimetre. Jonny’s sweating by the time he feels Patrick’s knuckles press up against his crack, finger buried deep inside and moving carefully. Patrick adds more slick, finding the tube on the table beside him and dripping lube down over his hand.

“Your pussy’s opening up so nice for me, baby,” Patrick murmurs, thumb rubbing along Jonny’s taint and stroking at his balls as he presses another finger inside. “All red and wet and soft for me. I think—yeah, I think you’re ready for a third, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jonny gasps. “I’ve been ready forever, do it, please.”

There’s pressure, a stretch on his rim, and then—fuck— _now_ Jonny feels full, his brain sparking at the sensation. His cock leaps off his belly and smacks down, leaking a precum onto his abs, his shirt scrunched up from when Patrick had reached up to tweak at his swollen nipples. “Oh yeah, oh that’s, I want—Pat I want, I want—”

“You like that, baby girl?” Patrick croons, crowding in close until his hand is crushed between Jonny’s ass and his hips. He flexes against Jonny, fingers curling in and making Jonny shudder. “You’ve got a cock’s worth of fingers in your cunt.”

“Oh my god,” Jonny chokes. He gives in and wraps a hand around his dick, stroking it as slow as he can manage as Patrick thrusts his hips, moving his fingers in time until it’s like he’s actually fucking Jonny, sliding his fat dick into Jonny’s hot little pussy. Jonny wrenches his eyes open to look at Patrick’s face and sees the wild, aroused expression on his face, mouth hanging open and pupils wide. Jonny’s balls go tight, an arc of pleasure rushing up his spine, and he drops his cock just before it overtakes him completely.

“I want it,” Jonny says.

“Want what?” Patrick says stupidly, looking up.

“Your cock in my cunt.”

“Jonny—” Patrick says, hips stuttering and then stilling.

Jonny doesn’t get why he sounds reluctant, why this isn’t something he’s begging for. Jonny’s aching for it, so he reaches down and pulls on Patrick’s wrist until his fingers slide free, leaving Jonny’s hole wide and empty, then presses his palm awkwardly against the bulge of Patrick’s dick in his jeans.

“You said it yourself,” Jonny says, squeezing tight. “A cock’s worth of fingers. I’m _ready_.”

Patrick takes a deliberate breath, shoulders lifting and then falling. He pushes Jonny’s hand away, and for a moment Jonny’s heart sinks, stomach filling with nauseous rejection, but then Patrick’s unbuttoning his fly and pulling out his cock, his gorgeous thick dick. Jonny groans his approval and collapses back on the couch, ignoring the ache in his lower back as he tilts his hips up, begging silently.

“You’re—Jesus, Jonny,” Patrick murmurs. His cock slides between Jonny’s cheeks, hotter than fingers, smooth head pressing to Jonny’s hole. “You sure?”

“Put your cock in my cunt, Patrick,” Jonny orders, dropping his leg until he can fold it behind Patrick and pull him closer.

Patrick glances back at his face and then down again, the picture of concentration with his brow furrowed and his teeth sunk deep into his lower lip. Jonny watches his face, hardly breathing, as Patrick pushes against his hole, pressure building as the blunt, wide head pries Jonny open.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonny says, pulling Patrick in closer with his heel. “Tell me—c’mon, is it—”

“So fucking tight,” Patrick says, not lifting his head. “Your little virgin pussy, it’s so sweet, watching it—watching you take me, fuck, I—”

“Keep talking,” Jonny urges, shuddering as Patrick slides another inch, further than he got with his fingers. There’s a rushing in Jonny’s ears at the wildness of it, at the feeling of Patrick’s cock deeper in him than anything’s ever been, sparking nerves Jonny’s never felt.

“I—shit,” Patrick says, and then pulls out abruptly.

“Fuck,” Jonny says, startled. It hurts, the sudden emptiness, his hole clenching down on nothing, and he curls in sharply. “What the hell?”

“Get up,” Patrick says, stepping back. He’s sweaty and flushed, voice raw, cock jutting out of his fly, wet with lube and blood red at the tip. If he’s not into this, he’s not showing it, but Jonny has a sudden flash of how much he’s been driving this thing. What if this was too much? Jonny’s never been fucked, but Patrick’s never—

“Stop thinking,” Patrick says, voice going gentle, and when Jonny looks back at his face he’s smiling. “I just—I want to go harder,” he blushes a deeper red but perseveres through the cracking of his voice, “and you were gonna kill your back like that.”

“Oh,” Jonny says dumbly. He pushes to his feet, wincing at the popping of his hips and spine. “Yeah, okay.”

He can hear Patrick choke when he turns around and settles back on the couch, this time with his knees planted on the cushions and his arms braced along the back. He arches his back, popping his ass out, and glances back over his shoulder. “This better?”

Patrick rolls his tongue against his lip, and then snaps his teeth shut in a filthy grin. “Hell yeah,” he says, crowding in close, cock slapping against Jonny’s ass and then sliding along his crease. Patrick leans in and mouths at Jonny’s shoulder as he pushes back inside in a single perfect slide that Jonny feels all the way down to the soles of his feet.

Fuck, it’s so _good_. Patrick’s still got his fingers around his dick, hand bumping up against Jonny’s ass on every thrust in. He pushes up, splaying his hand over the small of Jonny’s back, just above the swell of his ass.

“You are—fuck, so hot,” Patrick growls, pressing Jonny down until he deepens the arch, ass pushing out towards Patrick.

Patrick groans. He pulls out and shoves back in, making Jonny shudder and the rapid stretch before Patrick pulls out again. Jonny feels his hole tighten, empty, then Patrick’s rubbing his cockhead against it, pressing halfway in, fucking Jonny in little shallow thrusts, stretching his rim but going no deeper.

“What are you doing?” Jonny asks, shivering as Patrick pops the head of his dick in again and then back out.

“Uh,” Patrick says, sounding sheepish. “Watching?”

“Jesus,” Jonny mutters. He reaches back, stilling Patrick’s movements with a hand on his hip. “Put it in me, fucker.”

Patrick complies, and this time Jonny pushes back, fingers tight on Patrick’s bare hip, sliding along his cock until they’re flush together. “Fuuuuck,” Jonny groans, rolling his hips, fucking himself good and deep on Patrick’s cock.

“Oh shit,” Patrick pants, hands sliding up Jonny’s chest to cup his pecs, thumbing at his pebbled-up nipples. “You gonna ride my cock, baby girl?” The jolt of sensation makes Jonny tighten down, and they both groan. “Make yourself feel so good until I can feel your hot pussy clenching down?”

“Yes, yesss,” Jonny hisses, dropping a hand back to his own dick and working himself back up, using the power of his thighs and his core to fuck himself on Patrick’s dick.

He feels—he thought he might feel out of body, getting fucked. Instead he feels shockingly present, screwing himself on Patrick’s dick with the strength of his body. He’s shaking with pleasure and exertion, muscles burning and nerves singing, taking Patrick in again and again until Jonny’s going tight, body tightening in an arc, thighs trembling and hips jerking back as he comes. With each pulse he can feel himself tighten down on Patrick’s cock, like a deep echo of the sensation in his dick.

“Oh fuck, Jonny,” Patrick says wildly, bending down and pressing his mouth to Jonny’s spine. “Your ass is insane, I can’t believe you let me—fuck, yeah, oh, oh—“ Patrick’s hips jerk once, twice, burying himself in Jonny as he pants against Jonny’s skin.

Jonny drops his head against the back of the couch, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Patrick’s face is still pressed to Jonny’s back, his breath hot damp air that are gradually slowing down. He lets out a muffled sound of protest when Jonny shifts his knees and rolls his shoulders, but straightens up.

Patrick’s still inside. He feels softer, though, and when he slips out the sensation makes Jonny shiver.

“Sorry,” Patrick says, moving away.

Jonny turns, standing up. His ass is wet. Jonny can feel a hot trickle of Patrick’s come leaking out. He ignores it and frowns at Patrick. “For?”

“I, uh,” Patrick says, looking down and tucking himself back in. “I broke the, uh, the game.”

“Huh?”

Patrick shrugs, buttoning up his fly with excess concentration. “You know, saying—ass, not—“ he glances up, “—pussy or whatever.”

“Oh,” Jonny says. He licks his lips. “Well, I mean, it is. That’s not—I don’t mind.”

Patrick’s watching him with careful stillness. “So if I wanted to—if I _said_ I wanted to fuck your ass, that would be okay?”

“Is it okay with _you_?” Jonny says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I know you’re not a girl,” Patrick says.

Jonny huffs out an annoyed breath. “So do I, but that doesn’t mean it’s not easier for you if we pretend.”

“Hey,” Patrick says, frowning. “I could fuck your ass.”

“I noticed,” Jonny says drily.

“No, I mean,” Patrick says, scrubbing at the back of his neck. He takes a step forward. “I could fuck your ass and not pretend it’s anything else. Or touch your dick.”

“Yeah, and call it my clit? You’re not into men,” Jonny says flatly.

“Seriously?” Patrick says, mouth twisting into a frown. “That’s what you’re getting from this? Fuck you, Toews, you’re a dude and I’ve been doing you just fine.”

“At calling me sweetheart and fucking my pussy,” Jonny snaps. “Real fine sounding, there.”

“Because _you_ get off on it, you asshole!” Patrick shouts. “How the hell is that _my_ hangup?”

Jonny shuts his mouth tight, looking over Patrick’s shoulder. “Whatever,” he says roughly. “I don’t care that you fucked up.”

“Thanks,” Patrick says sarcastically. When Jonny looks back at him he’s glaring, but Patrick drops his gaze right away and turns around, crossing the living room and heading for the hallway. He pauses just before he rounds the corner.

Jonny hears him let out a low _fuck_ before disappearing, leaving Jonny digging his nails into the palms of his hands until it hurts.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://demotu.tumblr.com/) where prompts and snippets happen / [twitter](https://twitter.com/thedemotu) where i drop teaser lines and muse about titles


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